God Rolls Dice, But Fate Plays Chess
by ForeverShippingJohnlock
Summary: While Ciel is investigating Beast's tent, Sebastian swoops in just in time to save him from being caught. But what if the trunk they hid themselves in wasn't as easy to get out of...


God Throws Dice, But Fate Plays Chess

Ciel kneels next to Beast's trunk and starts to sift through her various belongings. He desperately hopes he'll find something, anything to get him out of this blasted hell hole. The sooner, the better, so he is thankful when he comes across an old photograph of a much younger Beast standing next to a middle-aged man. The man is non-descript, common, nothing to arouse Ciel's suspicion. The sign behind them, however, tells a different tale. While he can't make out the entire thing, Ciel can distinguish one word: workhouse. Joker's earlier statement comes back to him, making more sense now than when it was originally uttered.

 _We first-tier performers all come from the same place._

Ciel suddenly realizes that Joker wasn't speaking hyperbolically, he wasn't indicating a similarity in situation or station in society (though that was true enough), but a literal _place._

 _Well and good, but where is that exactly? Maybe there's a better image of it in here…_ Ciel thinks, rifling deeper into the trunk. His eyebrows knit together, equal parts focus and frustration. Concentrated on the task at hand, he doesn't hear the approaching sound of feminine footfalls.

A gloved hand is suddenly placed firmly over Ciel's mouth and before he can cry out, he's yanked into the trunk – only a mere second before the curtains of the tent fly open and an agitated Beast appears, sporting a torn bodice. Ciel struggles at first but goes still when he hears the sound of a person in the tent.

"Do not stir, young master," a silken voice whispers in his ear, barely audible lest they be caught in their investigations. Sebastian removes his long-fingered hand from Ciel's mouth. Ciel hears a rustling of fabric as Sebastian grabs a garment and eases it quickly and silently out of the trunk. Ciel is confused until he hears Beast's voice.

"Blasted thing! Rippin' on me… and it was my favourite! Well, this'll do," she says, grabbing the bodice that Sebastian had hung over the edge. The trunk shuts and Ciel thinks he hears a faint click that he hadn't before. He breathes a sigh of relief as he listens to Beast's fading footsteps.

Once the danger wears away, Ciel takes note of the cramped quarters. He can feel his face heat; he doesn't think there is an inch of him that isn't in some way touching Sebastian. He feels a puff of breath over his face as Sebastian speaks in the smug tone so often used.

"Good thing I returned ahead of schedule, thought you might need me."

Ciel can't see anything in the darkness of the trunk, but he _knows_ that Sebastian is wearing that insufferable smirk.

"Yes, now open this damned trunk and _get off of me_ ," Ciel hisses.

"Right away, sir," says Sebastian.

Though it's been only a short time, Ciel can already feel the heat in the small space begin to rise. He feels Sebastian shift to open the lid and Ciel bites his lip to stifle a quiet moan; one of Sebastian's thighs had slid between his own. Ignoring the sensation as best as a newly-hormonal teenage boy can (he's the Earl of Phantomhive for God's sake, he is above such base proclivities), Ciel can hear Sebastian's hand make contact with the lid. The next words Ciel hears makes his stomach grow cold.

"Oh, dear," Sebastian mutters.

"What? What is it?" Ciel replies sharply.

"It appears the trunk is locked."

"Surely you can force it open!"

"I can, though such a noise might alert passersby, and the subsequent discovery would be detrimental to keeping our cover, do you not agree?"

Ciel doesn't reply, only lets out an annoyed huff, knowing (and hating) that Sebastian is right. Ciel tries to keep his panic down. He crosses his arms and accidentally brushes Sebastian's chest in doing so.

"Well, this is a circus, after all… perhaps there is some kind of false panel in this bloody thing?" Ciel suggests, trying to keep his voice from shaking and to keep all stray thoughts of cages firmly out of his head.

"Judging by it's size and make, I doubt it. But I shall, of course, check for you, sir."

As soon as he says it, Ciel immediately curses the suggestion as Sebastian begins to _move_ , testing the edges of their confinement. Each check has him inching closer and every shift brings a shudder to Ciel's shallow breaths. Suddenly, Sebastian leans forward to rifle through to the bottom of the trunk, his head almost resting on Ciel's chest. Ciel tries to control what is quickly becoming the rapid rise and fall of it.

But the way Sebastian slides back up again… _Oh God._

Ciel knows that evidence of… whatever the hell this is… has begun to physically manifest itself. The only shield is the thin material of his peasant clothing. Ciel tries to shift as incrementally as he can, but as his bad luck would have it, Sebastian moves at the exact same time. The resulting friction is so unexpected that Ciel doesn't have time to cover his sharp exhale, sounding suspiciously like a moan. They both freeze. Sebastian is still leaning against him, and there is no way that he can't feel Ciel's shame pressing against the butler urgently. Ciel forgets to breathe for a moment when Sebastian lets out a low chuckle.

"My, my. What do we have here?"

"Shut it," Ciel bites back with clenched teeth.

"Three years with you, my lord, and I've never heard you utter such a… sound. I do wonder what caused it…" Sebastian replies, though Ciel knows that he understands _exactly_ what caused it. Then, as if experimentally, Sebastian slides his body against Ciel again in the same place, but _slower._

Ciel claps a hand against his mouth, attempting to swallow the next inexcusable noise, but Sebastian removes the hand with his own.

"Ah, ah, young master," Sebastian tuts, "that's cheating." And when, Ciel thinks, did this become a game?

But then again, it was always a game between them.

"Y-you bastard! Un- _ah-_ unhand me!" Ciel whispers angrily, trying (and failing) to sound authoritative.

"Of course, my lord, you need only say the words," Sebastian says, his lips right at Ciel's neck. The butler begins to lightly drag his bottom lip – slowly, _so slowly_ – up the smooth column of Ciel's neck to his jaw.

"S-Sebastian, I command- I order you to- _Oh God!_ " Ciel starts, but is cut off when his hips accidentally buck into Sebastian, an effect of Sebastian's long, elegant index finger trailing down Ciel's chest, stopping only to trace – and momentarily dip into – Ciel's waistband. Sebastian chuckles again, practically a purr in Ciel's ear.

"Oh, there is _no_ God here, my young master," says Sebastian, punctuating his last words with a barely-felt nip to Ciel's earlobe. Ciel closes his eyes, and curses himself for such a vulgar display of weakness.

"What are you doing to me," he whispers quietly and tenses, realizing he'd said it aloud. Ciel can feel the demon's smile against his cheek as he rolls his sinful hips.

"Whatever you ask of me," is Sebastian's simple reply.

Ciel, against everything he'd been taught, against every high standard he held himself to, turned his head, fully intending to capture the infuriatingly insolent lips in his own, but stops short. He relishes the almost imperceptible breath of surprise from Sebastian and smirks. With a gained advantage and a prideful nature larger than the body that contained it, Ciel waits for Sebastian to make the first move.

That's what pawns are for, after all.

Sebastian huffs a sort of amused breath that tingles Ciel's parted lips, as the butler leans forward. They're so close now, not much more than a hair's breadth apart, and-

The weight pressed against Ciel's body suddenly disappears, as much as it can in such a small space. Nevertheless, Ciel feels the absence and suppresses a shiver. Confused, he hears the unmistakable sound of Sebastian's pocket-watch click open.

"My, look at the time. I must get back for the finale," Sebastian says and, much to Ciel's surprise, opens the trunk lid with ease, stepping out gracefully. Ciel blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the lamplight, before he feels his blood begin to boil.

 _"You knew you could get out the entire time?!"_ Ciel cries, trying to keep his voice down but unable to control his annoyance. Sebastian looks unruffled, as usual, and it only serves to make Ciel even more irate.

"Of course. If a butler can't find his way out of a simple locked box, he isn't worth his salt," Sebastian replies with that enigmatic smile.

Ciel clenches his fists, wanting to argue further, but knows that if he keeps Sebastian – or should he say "Black" – here any longer, the rest of the troupe will get suspicious.

"Fine, just _go._ I'll relate my findings to you later. I still need to go through Joker's tent, with the encore I should have just enough time _._ "

"But, my lord-" Sebastian begins, most likely surprised Ciel wants to continue his investigations so soon after his close-call with one of the troupe. Ciel doesn't let him finish.

"I want this over _today._ Now go," Ciel replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. Sebastian gives him a slight bow and nods his head in compliance.

Ciel focuses his attention back towards Beast's personal belongings, wanting to get one more glance at the old photograph, when he's stopped by Sebastian's voice at the edge of the tent. Ciel pointedly doesn't turn around.

"About our earlier… _conversation_ , young master, we could perhaps continue it back at the manor."

"Perhaps. Now off with you."

Ciel hears the tell-tale retreating swish of Sebastian's tailcoats and lets out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He turns his head and smirks at the place Sebastian had just occupied, quietly considering the grotesque sinful twisted _interesting_ development that had just taken place. Because as much as Ciel loathes to admit it, he is still in some ways a child…

And a child never turns down a new game.


End file.
